


I Will Always Come Home To You

by Telaryn



Series: We Have Done The Impossible [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Firefly, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Betrayal, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Families of Choice, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marriage, Masturbation in Shower, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Serious Injuries, Sex, Shower Sex, Sparring, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: Clint and Natasha are settling into their new lives as members of Serenity's crew.  When Natasha agrees to accompany Inara on an assignment, acting as bodyguard to the Companion, the last thing she expects is that the job will be little more than a trap designed to take her and Clint in and bring them home to face Alliance justice.





	I Will Always Come Home To You

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: I have edited the tags to add "Implied/Referenced Character Death". Bucky fans reading this need to understand that we are essentially dealing with the Winter Soldier here. If AO3 had given me the option I would have listed him as the character instead of Bucky.
> 
> The reason I bring this up is that in the story Natasha remembers Bucky's turning point in his training; the point where the Alliance forced him to fight his childhood best friend to the death. It's one or two lines, not graphic in any way, but there is a reason Steve is not a character in these works.
> 
> I don't intend for the moment to be taken as anything other than tragic, but after two comments now touching on the same issue I realize it can be potentially upsetting to fans of the character and/or the pairing.
> 
> Proceed at your own risk.  
> ====================================================================================
> 
> The sequel I never conceived of writing to the fic I never conceived of writing! After "Keep Her In The Air" turned out to be everything I could have wanted in a fusion fic, I started to wonder how the other Avengers might fit into the Firefly universe.
> 
> This is the result. Still primarily Clint and Natasha's tale, but it shows a little more of the government structure that shaped them into the people Mal agreed to take on board Serenity.

An outlaw…a substantial price on his head if that gunslinger they’d run into on Persephone was any indication…and all Clint Barton could think as he dug into the last of the bags he and Natasha had brought on board Serenity was that he’d never felt more sure himself and his place in the ‘verse.

 _Do you want it?_ He’d been so scared asking the question when Tasha had finally confessed her pregnancy, never dreaming that the Alliance’s top Operative would say ‘yes’, would be willing to give up every comfort and honor afforded to her for her service in order to make a life with him and their child. And then falling in with Malcolm Reynolds and his mixed bag of a crew had almost ended their flight before it began. Clint and Natasha had been so worried about being found out it had never occurred to either of them that their fugitive status might be seen by some as a trick – something not to be trusted.

His hand closed over the familiar curving shape of his bow just as his daughter began making soft, fitful noises in her crib. The baby’s bed had been an unexpected gift from Serenity’s crew, appearing in their tiny quarters one day with no one willing to claim sole responsibility. “Inara’ll be wanting her basket back,” was all Captain Reynolds would say on the matter, referring to the Companion’s loan of a makeshift bed for Serena’s first handful of weeks.

“Just a second sweetheart,” he murmured in a low, sing-song voice, pulling his prize out into the light. As a sniper for the Alliance, Clint was trained to handle all sorts of range weapons. This variation on the ancient longbow had always been his favorite. It collapsed with a quick inward flick of his wrist, small enough to transport easily but sacrificing nothing in the way of power when he had it at full extension and draw.

Serena’s fussing grew louder as Clint returned to groping in the bag for his quiver and what arrows he’d been able to smuggle out of the core. “Daddy’s coming,” he said distractedly, managing to pull the items free without spilling the arrows across the room. It had been hard enough to convince Natasha he could look after their daughter long enough for her to take Zoe up on her offer of a sparring session; Clint knew that if he ended the afternoon with a shrieking infant on his hands he was never going to hear the end of it.

“All right, all right miss,” he said, scrambling to his feet and going to the crib at last. “Such a fuss – I told you I was right here.” He scooped the tiny baby up and immediately realized the source of her protest. “Well you should have said something sooner,” he chided, cradling her one armed while he searched for the clean napkins. Ten minutes later Serena was clean, changed into a fresh outfit and tucked safely into the carrier Kaylee had made for them out of an old jump harness.

“What do you think about visiting Auntie Kaylee?” he asked, kissing his daughter’s tiny reddish curls as he bent to catch up his weapons. “You like being around the big engine, right?”

The path between their quarters and the engine room took Clint through the cargo bay, past the area Natasha and Zoe had set up for their workout. Tash was walking Serenity’s second in command through the steps of a takedown she’d used on Clint more than once. “Hi Mommy!” he called, waving Serena’s hand at her when she saw them. Grinning, his wife exchanged a quiet word with Zoe, and then came to the rope where he stood to give them each a kiss in turn.

“And what mischief are you two up to?” she asked, caressing the baby’s hair as she looked into his eyes.

 _How are you even my life?_ The thought flashed across Clint’s mind as he tried to remember how to breathe. Even after all the time they’d spent together and everything they’d been through, she still had that effect on him. He couldn’t imagine it ever changing. “I was hoping Kaylee would take a look at my kit, make sure it survived the trip out from the Core.”

After a beat, Tasha nodded. “I’ll come get her when I’m done here. She’s going to need to nurse soon.” More kisses were exchanged, then they were on their way.

Jayne Cobb, the crew’s weapons ‘expert’ was standing half-hidden under the stairs that would take Clint and his daughter to the section of the ship that housed the engine room. “Can’t blame a guy for being curious,” he said defensively as his eyes met Clint’s. Clint just shook his head in disgust and headed up the metal steps at a trot.

“Jayne is a creature of very simple needs and motivations,” Inara Serra had told them during their first few days on ship, when Natasha was still confined to the tiny sick-bay. “You’re never going to make friends with him, but as long as Captain Reynolds considers you part of the crew you won’t have to worry about him selling you out.”

It was cold comfort, but Clint and Natasha had privately agreed it was better than they were likely to get striking off on their own with an infant in tow. “No question who’s the boss in this outfit,” he murmured, letting the baby grip his finger as they turned towards the stairs that led to Kaylee’s nest in Serenity’s engine room.  
**************************  
Natasha felt the familiar pang under her breastbone as she turned away from Clint and Serena, but for the most part she was grateful Clint had pushed for her to accept Zoe’s offer of a sparring partner. “Your body’s as much a weapon as any of our guns or the bow,” he’d said, looking at her with that earnest expression in his eyes that meant he was speaking a truth he felt deep. “It deserves the same attention and care.”

He’d never spoken so boldly to her before, when she was the Alliance’s tool and he one of hundreds of snipers that could be called on to back her up on a mission. _Now…_ He saw things – more than she suspected people ever gave him credit for noticing – and when he spoke up about a matter, it was more often than not worth listening to.

“Don’t suppose you’re ready to quit?” Zoe grinned as Natasha joined her in the center of the ring. “I mean, I know you’ve got all that fancy Alliance training, but surely the whole pregnancy thing is catching up to you?”

Tasha matched the woman’s grin with one of her own. “You’ve got at least another hour in you by my reckoning,” she said, looking Zoe over. “And while I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I promise you that I know my limits well.”

Zoe’s dark eyes ticked past Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ve got an audience, you know?”

She had to assume the question was rhetorical, but Natasha _had_ been trying to ignore the feel of Jayne Cobb’s eyes on her as she worked. “I was going to invite him to join us,” she said, “but Inara indicated Captain Reynolds didn’t want him damaged.” She deliberately kept her tone conversational and her expression neutral as Zoe struggled to swallow back a snort of laughter.

“I don’t need the likes of the Captain to protect me.” There was a definite thread of anger in Jayne’s voice as he moved closer to them. Natasha didn’t turn until he was at the edge of the ring. “I know you’ve got all kinds of fancy Alliance training, but out here all that does is get you killed quicker.”

 _Has he seen what River Tam is capable of?_ Tasha wondered, meeting his eyes without flinching. It was a question she didn’t dare ask out loud though – not without understanding how much of the girl’s ability was a known thing to Serenity’s crew. “I’m going to give you two choices Jayne,” she said finally. “One, you get in here and I show you exactly what good my ‘fancy Alliance training’ is. Two, you find yourself an elsewhere to be and get there.”

“I want to dance.” The three of them turned to see that River had come up on them. Natasha barely suppressed a shiver. The number of people that could get that close without her sensing them was uncomfortably small, and when you factored in River’s training and the modifications she had endured at the Alliance’s hands it added up to one of the few things in the ‘verse that Natasha Romanoff was well and truly scared of.

There was only one way to deal with River’s insistence on enacting old rituals she’d turned her back on. “I’m not gonna be dancing with the likes of you, miss,” she said, moving to square off with the girl. “No matter how many times you ask, the answer is still no.”

“Natasha!” Everyone in the bay turned at the sound of Mal’s voice coming from one of the upper catwalks, but Serenity’s captain only had eyes for his newest gun. “A word, if you don’t mind?”

Tasha marked Inara Serra standing in the captain’s shadow, but otherwise Reynolds carried no hint of what might suddenly be in the wind. “Coming!” she called with a quick nod.

Zoe stepped up in her wake. “Trouble, Captain?” she asked. Mal shook his head.

“It’s the Ambassador’s business,” he called back. “No concern of ours.” Natasha recalled that ‘Ambassador’ was one of Reynolds’ preferred sarcastic commentaries on Inara’s standing as a registered Companion. Born and bred to Alliance ways as she was, Natasha found the Captain’s views on the ignorant side of the line. So long as Inara herself didn’t see a need to shut him down though, Tash knew she would keep her own counsel on the matter.

“You’re leaving Zoe in one piece for me, yes?” Mal asked as she reached the two of them.

Natasha grinned. “Sir, yes sir. That girl’s a blessing I never expected to encounter out this far.”

Reynolds nodded, his eyes sliding past her to where his second-in-command was talking with River. Natasha couldn’t help tensing at seeing her so close to Zoe, but she tried not to be too obvious about it. Unfortunately, like Clint, the captain was also a great deal more perceptive than she suspected people were willing to credit him with being. “One day soon you’re going to tell me why she spooks you so bad,” he murmured. Natasha turned to meet his eyes.

“Sooner if there’s a danger to my ship and my crew,” he added. “We understand each other?”

“Well enough, Captain,” she agreed, stepping back a pace to draw Inara back into the conversation. Memory of how much the Companion had helped and comforted her through the chaos of Serena’s birth was uppermost in her mind as she said, “Now what may I do for you, Inara? Name it and it’s yours.”  
*************************  
Inara had been impossibly relieved when Mal had agreed without his usual litany of mule-headed arguments to let her approach Natasha with her proposal. _He’s just glad it’s not Zoe we’re talking about,_ she thought as she faced the former Alliance operative. “I have a client on Bernadette,” she said. “In New Paris.” She glanced quickly at Mal, annoyed that the Captain was still present, but aware that there was little she could say to make him move on.

“Stark is safe,” she went on. “He’s been a client going on three years now, thoroughly vetted by the Guild. The problem is…”

Natasha nodded. “Slavers. Stories were already circulating before we…” Her breath caught, but she forced herself to go on. “Before Clint and I left the Core. You need a bodyguard.”

“I keep offering to let her take Jayne,” Mal said, his expression a study in innocence. Natasha snorted.

“Good way for both of them to end up dead.” Her attention shifted back to Inara. “Long as the Captain has no objection, I’m in. Just tell me when and where.”

Inara had no logical reason for the sense of relief that washed over her, but the smile she gave Natasha was both genuine and heartfelt. “Wash says we’ll be in shuttle range in about three hours. One night on the surface – Anthony already knows to provide suitable quarters for you – and then we’ll be back.” She was jolted to realize that a deep-seated part of her was expecting Natasha to refuse. The fact that she didn’t appear at all bothered by the request was a wrong note suddenly sounding over and over in Inara’s mind.

For her part, Natasha simply looked to Mal. “Sounds shiny, Captain – I assume you have no objections?”

“None I’d be willing to voice here,” Mal said, but his eyes were full of emotion as he added, “Keep her safe, and both of you come home in one piece. I don’t want to be answerin’ to Kaylee if anything happens to either of you.”

The matter apparently settled, Inara retreated to her shuttle and sent a wave to Bernadette. The nervous looking man whose features resolved on the small screen as her query was picked up wasn’t her client. He _was_ the one who more often than not made the arrangements for her meetings with Anthony Stark. “Dr. Banner,” she greeted him. “How is he?”

Banner exhaled softly. “He will do much better if I can give him good news.”

Some contrary streak kept Inara from putting Stark’s personal physician at ease right away. “As I’ve said before Dr. Banner, this would all be much easier if he would just agree to meet me at his estates on Bellerephon.”

“I know,” Banner said hastily. “And you have to know, Inara, that I’ve tried. New Paris is where he feels safe.” He paused. “You also know the effect you bringing a bodyguard has on him.”

Inara did. Sole survivor of one of the most powerful families in the ‘verse, Anthony Stark was rich, brilliant, impossibly charming, and altogether one of the most emotionally damaged people Inara had ever taken into her care. He was also a man who enjoyed his pleasures and wasn’t used to being denied them. Inara indulged them as far as she dared, because she felt a real connection with the man behind the mask Stark typically showed to the world, but there were some things he was just better off hiring a prostitute for.

His bodyguard ‘kink’ – oh stars above, how she hated that term – was one of those things that served a practical purpose, but even so she’d had to get quite graphic with Stark one memorable visit, describing to him what was likely to happen if he invited Zoe to join the two of them in his bed.

 _Natasha’ll probably just castrate him,_ she realized, making a mental note to remind the other woman that maiming Stark wasn’t going to be an option this trip. “We are on schedule to make planet-fall in five hours standard Doctor,” she said finally, aware that Banner was still waiting for his answer. “Please tell Anthony that I am looking forward to seeing him again.”  
****************************************  
“What made you decide to take up the bow?” Kaylee asked, turning his quiver over in her hands. As Clint had suspected, the girl was fascinated by his kit – the simplicity of the design appealed to everyone with an eye for such things.

Aware that her question was still lingering, Clint cast his mind back to the first time his older brother had showed him how to set arrow to string and how his arms had trembled the first time he’d pulled back on what he would later understand was almost the lightest draw a bow could be set for and still function. “I was raised on Whitethorn,” he said, feeling his focus slip as memory crowded in close. “Firearms are scarce enough there that most go to the cattle ranchers. My father still had an old double barrel shotgun that belonged to his great, great grandfather, but it weren’t near enough to keep watch over thirty acres of farmland.”

“The thing about an arrow,” Barney had said, his body framing Clint’s as the boy he’d been struggled to hold the form he’d been shown and coordinate his movements enough to allow the arrow to actually leave the bow and not fall limply to the ground, “is that it’s quiet. Position yourself right and a predator will be dead before he even knows you’re there.”

“When I joined the military,” he said, focusing in on Kaylee again as a shudder ran across his shoulders and down his spine, “I remembered what my brother had said. The brass didn’t believe me at first, but after we had a mission go south because somebody heard me pull back the hammer on my rifle at the wrong moment, they were more willing to listen to me.”

Like most Alliance divisions, command had come very close to making Clint regret that he’d ever said anything. There had been endless rounds of meetings where he’d been pushed to repeat his argument over and over – countering virtually identical opposition each time and trying not to look like he hadn’t heard it all before.

One of the ‘verse’s great truths was that insulting people you wanted to have fund one of your ideas never lead anywhere good. Eventually he’d been introduced to a team of the base’s best scientists, and another month of working to develop a kit that would do everything he needed it to do and give him the level of stealth most of his missions demanded of him.

Kaylee held the bow away from her body and gave it an experimental flick. The weapon telescoped out to full extension with the familiar soft ‘snikt’, but she frowned. “Somebody’s got a little cough,” she said, a line appearing on her forehead between fair brows and deepening as she shifted her hold on the bow to look more intently. Clint had tensed to step in closer when she put it out again and flicked her wrist in the direction needed to collapse it.

He didn’t know whether it was pure suggestion or that now Kaylee had pointed out there was something to hear his brain was more focused, but this time Clint heard the small hesitation in the mechanism. “I was afraid of something like that,” he said with a small sigh. “Things have been so crazy since we ran, I don’t even remember the last time I had a breath to properly clean it.”

“Oh I can do that too, if you want me to,” Kaylee said. She hesitated then, uncertainty clouding her expression. “You did want me to fix it, right?”

“Absolutely!” Clint said without hesitation. He knew enough to be able to take the bow apart and do the work himself, but they’d been on board Serenity long enough for him to appreciate the kind of mechanical genius it took to keep a ship like this flying on little more than spit and prayer.

His daughter shifted in her carrier, making a sharp, disgruntled noise. Clint automatically reached up to stroke her soft curls. “I know a lot of things, Kaylee,” he said, shifting his attention to the mechanic once more. “And probably the most important is that there are a whole lot of people out there smarter than me.” He sensed Natasha’s approach up the corridor and smiled, ducking his head slightly. “If you’d be willing to check everything over, get it back in shape, I’d be happy to repay you in kind.”

Strong arms slid around his waist, hugging him from behind. Sighing happily, Clint leaned back into his wife’s embrace. “You two are pretty together,” Kaylee said, smiling. “Like Zoe and Wash. It’s nice.”

“Can you help this shībài zhě?” Natasha asked, leaning forward to talk to Kaylee. Scowling, Clint swatted at her hands.

“Not in front of the baby!”

Laughing, Natasha reached around him and extracted Serena from her carrier. “Come to mama, baby.” Settling their daughter on her hip, she turned her attention back to Kaylee. “How bad is it?” 

The girl hefted Clint’s bow again. “Pretty good, if he really hasn’t taken it out in ten month or more. Should only take me a couple of days to put it all to rights.”

He had no idea what he could do to repay Kaylee, but Clint was determined to try. “I owe you big, Kaylee. You think of anything I can do for you, you let me know.” Natasha laid a hand on his arm, and for the first time he sensed that something had happened.

“Inara wants me as a bodyguard for one of her appointments,” Tash told him, once they had said their farewells to Kaylee and headed back to their bunk. “She’s got a client on Bernadette – New Paris – and needs some protection against the slavers.”

Clint knew that Natasha would have already considered the obvious, but he spoke up anyway. “That’s a little close to the Core, isn’t it? You want me to come with?” He glanced over and saw that she was negotiating the release of a lock of her hair from Serena’s tiny fist.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, once she’d settled the baby again. “I’ll go dark as an added precaution, but it’s one night to and from the apartment. From the way Inara was acting, sounds like it’s more for show than anything else.” She grinned, and Clint felt things low in his body tighten pleasurably at the sight. “If I heard her straight, her client is Anthony Stark.”  
*****************************************  
With the weight of her child in her arms, Natasha couldn’t stop second thoughts from rising in her mind. _It’s too soon._ She knew that eventually she would be called on to use her skills again – this time for Serenity and her crew instead of the Alliance – but the results would be the same. Now though, the thought of being separated for even a night from Clint and their daughter was a weight on her heart.

“I’ll nurse her when we get back to quarters,” she said as they rounded a corner, “then I’ll need to get in the shower if I’m going to do my hair. Inara said we needed to be ready to leave in a few hours.”

“You taking anything special?” Clint asked, going to where they kept their weapons and clothes, while Natasha made for the room’s only comfortable chair.

Tash shook her head, making a negative sound in the back of her throat. Serena seemed to have caught on that something important was happening that involved her; in that counter-productive way babies have, she was already reaching for Natasha and significantly slowing up her mother’s attempts to shift her clothing out of the way. Finally though, mother and daughter settled down to the business of lunch, while Clint located and set out everything he thought Natasha might want to take with her.

“Catsuit?” he asked, turning towards her with a square of folded fabric in his hands. Natasha snorted, momentarily startling her daughter into dropping the nipple she’d just managed to latch onto.

“I don’t even know if I can wear that yet. Black leather with the red tank top. It’ll make the right statement, and I’ll go a little heavier on the guns in case we do run into trouble.” Exhaling softly and willing her body to relax, she savored the overwhelming awareness of her daughter that came at these times - the life she and Clint had created together and brought into the world.

After about ten minutes, Serena began fussing. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Natasha said, eyes full of her daughter as she shifted the baby to her other breast. “It’s too soon.”

She didn’t realize how much she was counting on Clint not to laugh at her until she looked up and saw the compassion in his grey eyes. “It’s one night,” he said gently. “And it’s not going to be any easier a month from now.” Leaning down, he kissed her deeply and thoroughly, stirring decidedly non-maternal feelings inside her. All the studies she’d read said that this soon after birth sex was supposed to be the last thing on her mind, but if anything Natasha was finding herself more aroused by her husband than ever before.

“I’ve still got to do my hair,” she murmured as their lips parted. “Join me?”

His storm colored eyes ticked downwards. “As long as she cooperates.”

Moving slowly, Natasha passed him the now-sleeping baby. “She loves her mama.”  
******************************  
It was one of the truths of life aboard ship that their shower was barely big enough to fit the two of them at the same time. Once he had the baby settled, Clint stripped off his clothes and went into the small room. Through the steam he could see Tasha rinsing out the last of the quick-set dye she kept with her for undercover missions. Clint liked it when she changed her appearance – the dark hair brought out how dangerous she was, while a lighter color emphasized the girl she would have been without the influence exerted by the Alliance from her childhood.

Whether light, dark, or her true red color, the woman beneath her hair was the perfect shape and form of the person he loved more than his own life. Stepping in close behind her, Clint slid his hands across her damp skin. “Wish we had more time,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into her shoulder until she gasped – arching back into him.

“Clint, please,” she begged, pressing the curve of her ass into his cock and sending his hormones into overdrive. “Wǒ xūyào nǐ.”

Growling low in his throat, Clint pushed her against the tile wall, trapping his palm against her sex and shoving two of his fingers inside her. Pausing just long enough to align his thumb against the edge of her clit, he rocked his hips back, then into her. Tash cried out as his fingers fucked into her, the relief evident in her voice even over the rushing of the water.

Steam closed in around them as they found a rhythm with each other. Clint’s own pleasure swelled, flaring out through his body as his entire awareness narrowed down to the woman in his arms. Moments like this he was almost afraid to breathe, terrified that any sudden, unexpected movement would shatter the perfection and return him to the life he was supposed to have had.

“Not gonna last,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.  
****************************  
A shiver of…. _something_ scurried down Inara’s spine when Natasha finally joined her in the shuttle. A person would have to be deeply stupid not to recognize at a glance that Serenity’s newest gun was dangerous, but there was something about seeing her kitted out as she might have been in her old life that drove home exactly what they’d taken into their hearts.

“Anthony’s going to love you,” Inara commented, immediately trying to lighten her own mood. She began flipping switches and turning dials, energizing the shuttle she called home. “No matter how charming he tries to be, remember that you are not part of his negotiation with me.”

Natasha grinned. “Well that’s not exactly true, is it?” Before Inara could defend herself, she elaborated. “You negotiated a bodyguard, didn’t you? And, setting aside the question of Jayne’s suitability and the captain’s willful blindness on these matters, I’m betting the idea of a male bodyguard never entered into the equation.”

Flipping open the comm, Inara said, “Shuttle ready to detach, Serenity.”

Wash’s comforting voice came through immediately. “Safe journey, Inara. We’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

Focusing on the task of getting the shuttle detached from the larger ship and headed on the proper approach to Bernadette and New Paris bought Inara some time to process Natasha’s insight. “You’re…observant,” she managed finally.

The former Alliance Operative was leaning on the back of the co-pilot’s chair, watching their destination grow in the shuttle’s view-screen. “I also know Anthony Stark,” she admitted. Her tone was decidedly off-hand, but Inara definitely felt her heart skip a full beat. “By reputation mostly, but I’m fair certain you’d find it useful to dangle something in front of him he can’t have.” Here she turned to look at Inara, and there was an uncomfortably mischievous glint in her eyes.

Some of the nervous energy threading its way through Inara’s stomach must have shown in her expression, because Natasha sobered immediately, shifting to sit in the chair. “I don’t mean to overstep, Inara. Seems the longer I spend married to Clint, the more often the speed of my mouth outstrips my good sense.”

Inara shook her head. “You’re not overstepping, Natasha – you’ve just made me realize I might not have thought this out fully. What if Anthony has seen waves about you and Clint? We could be walking you into something you can’t get out of.”

She genuinely didn’t know what to make of the smile that softened Tasha’s expression. “First of all,” the former Operative said, “even if I have crossed his path a time or two over the years, the odds of Anthony Stark remembering me by sight are so small they aren’t even worth considering. “ She gestured at her appearance. “Most of the time I worked in the Core, I didn’t even look like this. I also have no plans to go poking that particular landmine unless you signal me that I have to. Once he understands that he can’t have me in his bed, I become furniture to somebody like that.”  
******************************************  
All eyes were on Clint as he entered Serenity’s mess. “Alliance used you as a sniper,” Mal said, setting his fork down. “You any good close up?”

Even though his stomach did a slow, queasy roll at the question, Clint forced a smile onto his face. “Good enough. What’s the game?”

“Intel grab,” Mal said. “A broker we deal with bounced us a wave that an Alliance transport is going to be touching down for refueling in a few hours. One of the passengers is the architect behind a new base they’re planning to build on the leeward side of Pythias.”

Clint busied himself fixing a plate, his thoughts drawn to the baby currently dozing on his chest. Natasha leaving for a stretch was one thing – they’d never discussed both of them having to work. “Captain,” he began as he joined the rest of the crew, his refusal already on his tongue.

Kaylee spoke over him before he could finish. “I can watch the baby while you’re planet-side. I’d be happy to.”

Speech turned into a sharp exhalation of breath as Clint considered her offer. _What would Tash do?_ More to the point, what would she want _him_ to do? He knew his wife would have an opinion on the subject. _Of course if she were available, Captain wouldn’t be asking me to do it._ “Tight timetable?” he asked, the question of their planned rendezvous with Inara’s shuttle hanging unspoken in the air.

Mal nodded, and Clint thought he could see a trace of sympathy in the man’s eyes. “Nothing we haven’t handled in times past. Plus the money’s too good to pass up.”

 _And it’s time I start earning my keep as well,_ Clint thought, buying himself a few precious moments with his first bite of food. _Past time, truth be told._ He’d suspected as soon as the guard job had been dangled in front of Tasha that his turn couldn’t be too far behind, and while Mal wasn’t saying anything outright, the meaning behind the Captain’s words were clear.

He was going to accept, but almost as if Natasha had control of his thoughts for a moment, the next words out of Clint’s mouth were, “River stays away from Serena while I’m gone.”

“River wouldn’t hurt…” Simon began, but it was Mal to whom Clint looked for an answer – Mal whose word would rule here.

“Even though you’re not in a position to be making demands here,” Mal said, leaning back in his chair, “I might consider your condition if you were in a position to tell me why River spooks you and your missus so bad?”

The longer he spent with Serenity’s captain, the more Clint had come to appreciate that Malcolm Reynolds was far more than he appeared to be. Lurking just beneath the surface of the slow-talking cowboy who rarely looked past his next meal or his next payday was the mind of a tactician as sharp as any Clint had ever seen working for the Alliance. The issue with River Tam was a complicated one, and truth be told it was mostly Natasha’s concern, but Clint understood now that he’d been expertly backed into a corner and he wasn’t getting out until he gave Mal _something_.

Laying a hand on his daughter’s curls, Clint drew a slow, steadying breath. “How much do you know about the program River was in?”  
************************************  
_He barely noticed her._

Dr. Banner had accompanied Stark to the hangar and had offered to personally escort Natasha to the kitchens. Inara supposed that could have had something to do with Anthony being on his best behavior, but as the Stark scion swept her towards his private quarters, she couldn’t shake the knowledge that he’d given Tasha no more than a brief, faint leer before seeming to dismiss her entirely.

“I am so grateful you were able to make time in your schedule for me.” The words penetrated Inara’s thoughts in time for her to give herself a swift mental shake. _Work the job._ “The Alliance has been hounding me for their latest shipment of bombers, workers at my facility on Brightwater have been threatening to strike for weeks now…” Abruptly, he put his arm around Inara’s shoulders, hugging her into his side. “I have missed you so much.”

“I have missed you as well,” Inara said, smiling in spite of herself. She knew it didn’t make any sense, but on some level she really did like Anthony, and enjoyed the time they spent together. As a Companion, she was the only person Stark had in his life who was absolutely trustworthy. He valued that, and never shrank from showing her how much. And as one of the richest men in the Core, he had both the means and the methods to treat her as few others could.

They went directly to his bedroom, which Inara had expected, but even if you restricted Anthony’s idea of “bedroom” to just the room that housed his bed, the space was arguably larger than the entirety of her shuttle.

Still and all, Stark knew how to work his money to maximum effect. A subtle blend of lavender and chocolate scents filled the room, helping to drain Inara of all her lingering fears and tensions. And she couldn’t help appreciating how beautifully the bed had been arranged.

“I didn’t forget anything, did I?” Stark was suddenly a warm presence at her back. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, fingers flexing questioningly against the silk fabric of her robe. “There are strawberries for after your massage. I had them brought in from Whitethorn this morning.”

Turning just far enough to meet his eyes, Inara let Stark see just how much she appreciated his efforts. “It’s all perfect Anthony, thank you.”

Leaning in, Stark kissed her. It was gentle, almost chaste – a soft brush of lips, thanking her for her attention, her presence, her appreciation…or some strange blend of all three. Inara slipped free of her robe, pulling away and going to the bed before the contact could cross the line from sensual to sexual. It was always a delicate balance with Stark.

“I’ve been thinking about resuming my painting,” he said, as she laid face down on the bed, hugging the pillow to her chest so that she could turn her head and keep Stark in view. “Could we negotiate for a portrait at some future date?”

She gave him a slow, lazy smile, her own relaxation beginning to overwhelm her. “That would be lovely,” she said as he went to the small table next to the bed and selected an oil. _Sandalwood._ Nicely warmed, the mellow scent caressing her senses and helping her narrow her focus to her work, and the man who was going to be the center of her world for the next twelve to twenty-four standard hours.  
******************************************************  
Natasha’s breasts were beginning to ache as she was led down two flights of stairs to the small room where she would be staying while Inara worked. “The mistress’ other bodyguard preferred taking her meals here, but you are welcome to eat with the kitchen staff if you like.” There was a clear implication that Dr. Banner expected Natasha to refuse, but she knew Clint would welcome any gossip she could bring him from the Core. _And outside a military barracks, there’s no better place to learn gossip than the kitchen of a wealthy man._ “I don’t want to put anyone out,” she said, finally. “I would be happy to eat with everyone else.”

The Doctor nodded. “I can have the cook send up a tray of snacks. There’s still some hours to dinner.”

“Please tell her that her hospitality and generosity are acknowledged and appreciated,” Natasha said automatically.

A list of expectations immediately followed, all of which tied into her understanding of Anthony Stark as a deeply paranoid man. Natasha supposed if she were as rich as Stark and had seen most of her family assassinated before she was twenty, she would be paranoid too. She listened patiently, and when Dr. Banner was finished said, “So long as my lady has no need of me, I will keep to my room or the kitchens.”

It seemed to satisfy him. When she was alone, Natasha sank into the room’s only chair and crossed her arms over her now-throbbing breasts. “Wángbā dàn.” There was so much about being a new mother she hadn’t anticipated, and the peculiarities of nursing topped the list. Intellectually she understood that without Serena to take care of her let-down her body would gradually adjust, but in the moment all she could think about was how much she missed her daughter, and the life she had built with Clint.

Natasha had never known her parents. Like most of her fellow operatives, she had been bred to the program – taken from her birth mother’s arms to be raised by the Alliance, groomed to do their bidding in every way. As children, she and the others had never wanted for anything – although everything from their food to the toys they played with were psychologically geared towards helping them grow into their ultimate destiny.

Love had never once entered into the equation. At the appropriate points in their respective development they were encouraged to indulge their sexual curiosity, and as they matured were provided with every opportunity to satisfy their sexual appetites. Emotional entanglements, on the other hand, were discouraged at every turn. The first sign that Natasha or any of her fellows might be feeling something beyond a simple physical attraction to a partner and that person – regardless of their position or standing – would be rotated somewhere far enough away that the odds of them being seen again dropped to almost zero.

It was the fate that had ultimately awaited Clint if the two of them hadn’t been so very careful.

The ache in her breasts had finally subsided to a manageable level – drawing a slow, deep breath, Natasha straightened up. _”There’s still some hours to dinner,”_ Dr. Banner had mentioned snacks, but suddenly all Tasha wanted to do was rest.

 _Out of shape,_ she thought, pushing to her feet with a groan. It was a good thing for both her and Inara that this gig was for show; as far down as her endurance obviously still was, Natasha wasn’t certain she could have protected Inara against Simon Tam, much less a serious attacker. Shuffling the two steps to the bed, she managed to slip off her gun belt and drape it over the table before rolling gracefully onto the mattress.

Sleep broke over her almost immediately, dragging her unresisting body down into oblivion.  
*****************************************  
“Wake up.”

Inara was normally one of those sorts of people that transitioned smoothly between waking and sleeping. Part of it was her training – it was a useful skill for a Companion to have – but as far as she had been able to determine over the years, the majority of it was her. This time though, she seemed to be having trouble throwing off the effects of her evening. Anthony had done his very best to drown her senses in pleasurable experiences, and it had left her with cobwebs in her brain and a heaviness in her limbs.

“Wake up.”

The speaker was standing just inside the chamber door, and once she managed to get a look at him, adrenaline flooded Inara’s limbs – bringing her immediately up into a sitting position. “Who are you?” She felt Anthony moving at her back, but the intruder was obviously and clearly looking at her.

He was dressed to intimidate; head to toe black leather, with an assortment of visible weapons. Dark hair was slicked back off his face and drawn into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. His features were handsome enough, but there was nothing in his eyes – no hint of empathy or rage, or anything that Inara could recognize as a genuine human emotion.

She flinched as Anthony moved in closer behind her. “Be easy,” he murmured, hand briefly gripping her bare shoulder as he kissed her hair. “Commander Barnes is an Alliance Operative. You have my word – no one will hurt you, and once this sordid business is over I will personally deliver you back to your shuttle.”

Before Inara could react to Stark’s obvious complicity in what was happening, Barnes withdrew something from his belt. Reaching her side of the bed in two quick strides, he passed her a tablet. Swallowing hard against a swell of bile in her throat, Inara turned it over to see an image of Natasha – unconscious and hog-tied with a ruthless efficiency. “You are going to record a wave to Captain Malcolm Reynolds,” Barnes said as Inara mentally scrambled to get ahead of him.

“Saying what?” she asked coldly, forcing herself to meet his cold, dead eyes.

If he was surprised at her lack of resistance, Inara couldn’t see it. Every instinct she had was screaming for her to spit in Barnes’ eye, tell him exactly what he could do with his demand; but he already had Natasha in his power. Her dead or injured couldn’t change that. “Instead of your usual rendezvous point, he will bring a shuttle to Mr. Stark’s hangar.”

“He can’t pilot the shuttle,” she interjected. It was an impulsive gamble on her part – the truth was Serenity’s shuttles were set up so that virtually anyone could fly them – but the priority was giving Mal as many options as she could, so she had to assume Barnes didn’t know that.

“He can bring someone to pilot for him,” the operative conceded. “Otherwise, this is a straight up trade – he brings me Major Clint Barton, he gets you.”

She flinched as Anthony chose that moment to trace his fingertips lightly across her bare skin again. “Your Captain is a practical man,” Stark said. “He will not give you up for two fugitives that mean less than nothing to him.” Inara understood that in his own way he was trying to soothe her, but the implication that Mal would turn on any member of Serenity’s crew, or that she would willingly encourage him to do so, stung deep.

Shrugging Anthony off, she asked Barnes as coldly as she could manage, “May I at least put on my robe first? Or do you want me to record this for you as I am?”  
*********************************************************  
It was only now, as Natasha struggled towards consciousness, that she realized she’d been drugged. _Ventilation system._ Whatever it had been, to take her out it would have been subtle and exotic, and in Natasha’s world that meant Alliance.

Adrenaline shot through her system as her brain fit Alliance into her current situation and came up with ‘trap’. “Inara…”

“She’s fine.” The voice was as familiar to Natasha as her own or Clint’s, and hearing it terrified her as few things had since fleeing the Core. “Stark negotiated for her safe release, and once I have your fellow traitor in hand I intend to honor that bargain.” A large hand fisted in her hair, dragging her up to her knees. A deeper, more primal rush of panic overwhelmed Natasha as the movement pulled a carbon fiber line hard against her throat, forcing a small measure of clarity past the drugs she’d been fed. 

_Barnes. Ankles…wrists…throat…_ Fresh bits of awareness spun in her brain, until she was able to fit them together and see her way to relief. “Nice one, Barnes,” she laughed breathlessly, adjusting her bound wrists upward until the cord he’d looped around her neck was slack again. “How many’d you kill working this one out?”

Anger flushed the operative’s cheeks a dark, mottled red, and Natasha braced instinctively for a blow. Once upon a time she and James Barnes had been friends – as close as anything allowed by the Alliance for its pets. _And then they broke you._ Barnes had begun Operative training with his childhood friend Steve Rogers. The two men had been closer than brothers, closer than lovers, and five years into the program they were on their way to becoming unstoppable.

Thing is, an unstoppable human weapon wasn’t what the Alliance was in the market for. They needed a weapon they could control, a weapon that wouldn’t turn in their hands and draw the wrong sort of blood. And so three days before his fifteenth birthday James Barnes was given a choice – lay down his life so that his best friend could go on, or put Steve Rogers in the ground.

There hadn’t been a funeral. More than that, they had been left with a clear understanding that any public displays of mourning their fallen comrade would be met with swift and final retaliation.

Barnes had internalized everything and gone on to become the greatest operative ever produced by the program. Natasha had wondered more than once if his ambition had been fueled by not wanting his best friend’s death to have been in vain.

One minute became two as the promise of violence shimmered in the air between the former colleagues. Natasha steadfastly maintained eye contact the entire time, drawing on her own peculiar skillset to calm her rising hysteria. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to just sit here and let you draw Clint into a death sentence,” she said finally.

She rolled instinctively with the blow as Barnes’ gauntlet backhanded her across the face, otherwise Natasha knew she would have ended up with a shattered cheekbone or worse. The action moved her arms out of alignment, which in turn pulled the noose tight around her throat. Stomping firmly on another surge of panic, Natasha raised her bound arms again – despite the awkward angle it created – intending to ease the pressure on her throat and allow her to draw a breath…

…and, nothing. She could feel give and take in the line connecting her wrists to her throat, but it had stopped affecting the position of the noose.

 _He’s not going to kill you. That’s not what this is about._ And even as she searched for Barnes’ face to confirm her suspicions, her fellow operative leaned over her, doing something to the slip knot at the back of her neck. After a moment the pressure eased, and it was all Natasha could do not to gasp in her first few deep breaths of air.

“There’s a pin in the line,” Barnes said, hauling her bodily back onto her knees. “You pull it tight enough to choke yourself – even for a second or two – and you’re dead. You won’t be able to loosen it on your own.”

Settling on his haunches, Barnes met her eyes. “I think we understand each other.”  
**********************************  
Of all the possible outcomes, the last thing Clint expected was the warm glow of satisfaction that accompanied him as Zoe piloted Serenity’s yellow mule back into the belly of the ship. Armed only with his sidearm and a rifle he’d borrowed from Jayne, he’d managed to more than hold his own on the job.

“Don’t think this buys you anything,” Mal said, as the mule shuddered and settled into position on the deck. “Nothing but luck put you in position to make that shot.”

Zoe gripped Clint’s shoulder as she stepped onto the ladder. “Nothing but skill kept him from putting that bullet in _your_ brain, Captain.”

Clint tried to school his features to something more serious as Mal continued glaring, but finally gave it up as a lost cause. “I’m just glad I could play my part, Captain,” he said finally, praying he was just imagining the threat of laughter in his voice.

He’d made harder shots in his career – he’d also blown easier ones. But when one of the people responsible for securing the documents that were their target got the drop on Mal, Clint hadn’t hesitated. Two bullets had gone in the woman’s skull almost before Captain Reynolds had realized his life was in danger.

Wash and Kaylee were waiting for them; Serenity’s mechanic bouncing Clint’s daughter on her hip. The sight of Serena waiting for him filled Clint’s world so quickly and completely that it took him a moment to realize neither Wash nor Kaylee was echoing the satisfaction rolling off the rest of them.

“Something’s happened,” Kaylee told him as Clint retrieved his daughter.

“We received a wave from New Paris,” Wash was telling Mal. Fear for his wife drove Clint forward a couple of steps to inject himself into the conversation, but Kaylee grabbed his arm – holding him back.

“Captain gets twisty when Inara’s in trouble,” Kaylee told him in a low voice. “Best to let him digest what’s going on first.”

 _You owe me,_ Clint thought rebelliously, staring daggers at Mal’s back as the Captain and Wash hurried up the stairs to Serenity’s cockpit. Picking up on his sudden agitation, the baby began to fuss and squirm in his grip.

Exhaling softly, Clint forced himself to calm down and shifted his daughter to one shoulder. “Shhh, baby,” he crooned. “Daddy’s here.”

“Kaylee, what’s going on?” Zoe asked, coming over to join them. Jayne was still at the mule, busily gathering up the weapons he’d brought with him on the job. _Man’s a walking definition of overkill,”_ Clint thought, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his daughter’s back.

“Job was a trap,” Kaylee told them, confirming Clint’s worst fears. “There was an Alliance operative waiting, and he’s got Natasha and Inara prisoner.”

A shudder ran through Clint, and it was all he could do not to tighten his grip on Serena. No matter which one of Natasha’s former compatriots had lucked into snaring her, the intent would be to use Inara to try and bring him in. And if it had just been his life at risk, Clint knew he would have been most of the way to Serenity’s remaining shuttle already.

It wasn’t just his life, though, and Natasha would be counting on him to do what was best for their daughter. Plus, Clint’s own personal sense of honor demanded he do everything in his power to help free Inara from this mess. _And a mess it is._

“Barton!” Mal’s sharp voice shook Clint free of an impending mental and emotional spiral. The Captain was standing on one of the many catwalks overlooking the bay. When Clint met his eyes, Mal motioned him up.  
********************************************  
“I do not understand why you’re acting like this.”

Once Inara had dutifully recorded the wave to Mal, Barnes had left her and Anthony alone, and Stark had immediately tried to lure her back to bed. She had instead fixed him with a glare that stopped him just short of actually putting his hands on her and gone to get dressed.

Now fully clothed, she felt better able to face him without screaming. “You used me,” she told him. “Made decisions on my behalf that affect my life and the lives of my friends. Even now you hold me against my will, which all on its own violates the heart of the codes and agreements that govern our time together!”

She wasn’t reaching him. Inara that knew when this was over, assuming she had the freedom to do so, she would need to review Stark’s reactions and study them in detail, so that if she was ever faced with a potential client who held a similar world-view, she would be better prepared to deal with it. “Your name will be added to the proscribed list in the Central Temple,” she said, feeling the weight of judgment in every word. “No registered Companion will agree to take your money or spend time with you for any reason from that day forth.”

Anthony had gotten to his feet as she spoke, and there was suddenly something dangerous in the expression on his handsome face. “You are becoming hysterical, Inara,” he said – his voice gentle now, but with a firmness to his tone she wasn’t used to hearing directed at her. “I need you to think rationally now – use that brain that I love so much. _This is nothing._ A minor irritation, that I am disposing of quickly, with no harm coming to you or your people. You should be thanking me, instead of threatening me.”

 _Clint and Tasha are my people too!_ She nearly screamed it at him, but Stark was right – she was ultimately a practical person, and it was clear that her views when it came to claiming two rogue Alliance soldiers as ‘her people’ were nothing Anthony could – or world – be able to subscribe to.

Not to mention, until Mal made his move she was very much the Alliance’s prisoner. It was a gilded cage true, but a cage nonetheless.

Schooling her features to something softer and more submissive, Inara finally managed to show throat. “I’m sorry Anthony,” she said, forcing herself to go to him. “You are right. You always take the best care of me. That Operative…he just…just…”

The few defenses Stark had put up against her anger completely collapsed. “He is a bit over the top, isn’t he?” Reaching out an arm, he drew Inara into a hug – to which she offered no resistance. “Hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore.” He tugged gently at her. “Come back to bed with me. Let us figure out all the ways we can pleasurably pass the time until your Captain comes to retrieve you.”  
************************************************  
“I’m sure Kaylee already gave you the bones of the matter,” Mal said to Clint, once they had all managed to crowd into Serenity’s cockpit. “The operative who has them is a Commander James Barnes; I’m assuming you’ve heard the name?”

Clint had never appreciated Captain Reynolds’ straightforward way of coming at things half as much as he did now. From anyone else, news that it was Barnes who had caught Natasha would only serve to make a hopeless situation even more so. “The job was a trap, set for you and Red, which is why Inara likely never saw it coming. They have her. Once they have you, Inara goes free.”

He didn’t want to ask – didn’t want to know – but it was the question on which everything they did from this point onwards turned. “Did he mention Serena?”

Mal shook his head. “Not a word.” Relief rushed over Clint in a wave so thick and fast that it physically staggered him. Cradling the now-sleeping baby’s head against his shoulder, he said a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t have to be involved in whatever came next.

“That makes things simpler then,” he said out loud for the benefit of the assembled crew. Focusing his attention entirely on Reynolds he said, “You make the trade. Me for Inara. Barnes won’t double cross you – there’s nothing in it for him.”

“They’ll kill you,” Mal said, his voice cutting through the growing swell of unhappy noises that surrounded them. “You said as much your first day on board, and the Shepherd backed you up. Alliance gets their hands on you, they’ll kill you and turn Red back into one of their psycho killing machines.”

Inexplicably touched by Mal bringing their conversation up as though any of it mattered, Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t matter whether it’s you or me making the call, Captain, trade’s getting done. If I’m not on that platform at the appointed hour, Barnes will kill Inara. It will be as slow and painful as anything you’ve ever seen, and he will arrange it so you watch every horrible second.”

He was stunned to realize that Mal was actually grinning at him. It wasn’t one of the Captain’s friendlier smiles, but it kindled a spark of hope in Clint’s belly that what he saw as straightforward their new family of outlaws might see differently. “Trade’s getting done,” Mal said. “Just not in the way those Alliance pricks expect.” He glanced at his second in command, who was standing at Clint’s right shoulder. “Zoe, you up for helping River get Inara back to us?”

Clint didn’t even have to turn to appreciate the fierce glee in Zoe’s voice. “Shiny, Captain.”  
***********************************************************  
When she’d asked Barnes how many he’d killed working out this particular tie, Natasha hadn’t been kidding. Once Steve was gone and he was encouraged to explore his darker impulses to their fullest, James had been obsessed with developing the simplest, most efficient ways to secure a prisoner once caught in the field. “The psychology is key,” he’d told Tasha one of the few times she’d gotten him to open up about his side project. “You have to come up with a way to make them complicit in their capture.”

Now that she was on the receiving end of his work, Tash had to admit that he had succeeded in this regard, at least. After an hour on her knees, she was reaching the very limits of her training and endurance, but the threat of death by strangulation was strong enough motivation for her to dig even deeper and hold position as best she could. She had no reasonable hope of rescue; even assuming Serenity’s crew figured out a way to liberate Inara, Clint would understand – he _had_ to understand - that protecting their daughter was more important than either of their lives.

“Cut her feet loose so she can walk.” Even though she was pulled deep inside herself, Barnes’ voice – coming from behind her unexpectedly – sent a chill shivering down her spine.

She raised her eyes as her captor stepped around to face her. “You’re going to need to support her,” he said to the person who was in the process of cutting the rope that bound her ankles into her wrists and throat. “Her circulation is going to be slow returning to normal. If she is damaged in any way before this business is concluded, I will take my frustrations out on you.”  
***********************************************  
In the end, Inara managed to convince Stark to stop pushing her for sex, and even persuaded him to leave most of their clothes in place. The fight to keep herself out of his bed had been lost before it was even begun; the situation was simply too precarious, although Inara silently promised herself that whatever Guild sanctions remained open to her against a man as rich and powerful as Anthony Stark, she would gladly level at him once this was over. _His willful ignorance of the world can only be excused for so long._

“Dr. Banner is the only person in my life who dares to argue with me,” Stark murmured, nuzzling in closer at her back and gently kissing the side of her neck. “I never realized how intoxicating it could be coming from someone as elegant and self-assured as you are.” His hands shifted on her body, and as he moved Inara managed to feel just how aroused he was by the whole business.

She had opened her mouth to respond to his declaration, was getting ready to remind him that he had agreed to only limited physical contact between them, when she heard the distinctive mechanical click of a hammer pulling back on a revolver. “All that money, all that education,” Zoe said dryly, “and that’s the best line you can come up with?”

No longer needing to tread carefully, Inara pulled free of Stark at last – turning to see that not only Zoe, but River had come to her rescue. “No time for talking,” Zoe said, sensing that Inara was about to let all her relief and fear and gratitude spill out into the room. “Change clothes with River – that Alliance operative is going to be sending for his hostage any minute.”

River took Inara by the arm and dragged her to one side. At the edge of her vision Inara saw Zoe position herself so that she blocked any view Anthony might try to take advantage of. “What’s the plan?” she asked, gathering up the few pieces of her outfit that had gotten scattered.

River was already half out of her tunic. “You stay with me,” Zoe said, her attention still on Stark. “Captain doesn’t want you anywhere near the fighting. When they send for you, River’s going to go in your place.”

Inara knew that River was a more capable fighter than anyone on the ship short of Natasha, but still the idea of this slender child being sent into a potential bloodbath while she was being removed for her own safety didn’t sit right. “You know…” she began, but it was River who stopped her – reaching out with a hand on her arm.

“Serenity needs everyone to play their part.”  
************************************************  
Clint had never in his life been so acutely aware of the lack of a weapon. Jayne had even offered him his choice of a set of knives that could be easily concealed under his clothes. Oddly touched, Clint had thanked him but refused. They were going to be bending Barnes’ rules for the exchange farther than he’d ever intended them to go; Clint didn’t want to risk pushing anything to the breaking point.

One of the ways they were pushing things was Simon Tam’s presence on the shuttle. Only Kaylee had ended up staying behind on the ship with Serena. As if he’d heard Clint’s thoughts, Simon said, “Are we sure me being here is a good idea?”

“When she sent that wave, Inara hadn’t seen Red in nearly ten hours,” Mal said, not taking his eyes from the shuttle’s windscreen. “I’m not taking any chances.”

Clint risked a glance at the young doctor. “With an operative in the mix Doc, odds of all of us getting out of this unharmed are pretty gorram small.”

He smiled, but there was no humor in it, and as far as he could tell, Simon wasn’t taking any comfort from either his or Mal’s explanations. _So be it._ With James Barnes standing between him and his goal, he wasn’t sure there was any comfort to be had in the situation. He couldn’t beat Barnes in a straight up fight, and even at a distance with his bow in hand, Clint wasn’t entirely certain he could do more than annoy the man. _Best chance is to get Tasha free and let her take on Barnes if necessary._

He amended the thought as Wash brought the shuttle in for a landing at Stark’s New Paris hangar. _Best chance is to get Tasha free and run like hell._

“All right,” he heard Mal say as the engines began cycling down. “Let’s see ‘em.”

Momentarily startled to realize the Captain was talking to _him_ , Clint shook back the cuffs of his shirt and presented his wrists. This was the part of the plan he unquestionably hated the most – but the sight of him coming down the ramp completely unrestrained would draw too much attention.

Mal caught his gaze as he fastened the twin circles of metal around Clint’s wrist. “I’m trusting your instincts here. We’ll create the distraction. You find your opening and get your wife.”

Clint nodded, accepting the key that was pressed into his palm. “We’ve got this, Captain. Inara’s going to be fine.”

“So is Red.”  
***************************************************  
Natasha watched as the twin to Inara’s shuttle settled into place – Wash and Mal visible through the viewscreen. If she strained she imagined she could see movement behind them. _They’re going to try something._ Whether Clint was with them or not, and her gut kept insisting that he was, Tash knew that whatever Malcolm Reynolds might be planning, it was going to give her probably her only chance to get free of this mess once and for all.

Narrowing her focus as the shuttle’s ramp finally lowered, Natasha eased her bound wrists downward until she imagined she felt an obstruction in the carbon fiber line. _The pin._ Exhaling softly, she ran the calculations in her head and came up short. Flexible as she could be under the best of circumstances, Barnes hadn’t left her near enough slack to be able to maneuver her bound wrists to the front of her body.

Mal had appeared at the top of the rank, hand on his holstered weapon, but otherwise supremely undisturbed by the number of weapons currently trained on him. His free hand was on something still half-hidden in shadow, and Tash swallowed hard – certain now what it was. _Okay, recalculate,_ she thought, furiously trying to come up with a new plan that would allow her to seize whatever opening Serenity’s crew made as soon as it showed itself.

 _“You pull it tight enough to choke yourself – even for a second or two – and you’re dead. You won’t be able to loosen it on your own.”_ But she wouldn’t die immediately, would she? She would have about a minute and a half before she would start feeling the effects of the strangulation.

She sensed Barnes step up to her side as Mal called, “I don’t see Inara anywhere. I kept my part of the bargain!”

“Show me!” Barnes called, taking another step forward. The Captain looked first at him, then for a longer moment at Natasha. She willed him to understand everything she was feeling, and that she was ready for whatever opportunity he saw fit to give her.

He seemed to understand – or at least Natasha had reached the point where she was willing to believe he had. He tugged on his prize, and Clint stumbled forward into view. “We’re all civilized folk here,” Mal went on as a hum of recognition rippled through Barnes’ people. “I get Inara, you get your prize.”

His hands were bound in front of him. He wouldn’t look directly at her either, and for one horrible, heart-stopping moment Tash wondered if Reynolds had betrayed them after all.

“Bring the Companion to the hangar,” Barnes was saying into his communicator. Natasha drew another deep, steadying breath, abandoning for the moment the need to look into her husband’s eyes one more time. _He didn’t bring the baby,_ she told herself. And Clint showed no signs of having been physically subdued – which Tasha had to believe he would have if Mal had tried to separate him from Serena against his will. _It’s a trick. It has to be._ If she was wrong she was dead anyway, so what did it hurt to hope for the best?  
**************************************  
“Hang in there,” Clint heard Wash say softly from the interior of the shuttle. Mal was playing his part to perfection, gradually drawing all eyes in the hangar to him. “You’re doing fine.”

He appreciated the encouragement, but truth was Clint was anything but fine. Even before they’d fallen in love with each other, Natasha’s safety had more often than not been his responsibility. Seeing her there, a prisoner of the very Alliance they had fought so hard to escape, went deeper than heart-breaking or terrifying for him. It was offensive. _She’s not yours,_ he thought, risking a glance at the operative who held Tash’s life in his hands. Clint had no illusions that he would be able to do anything but die at Barnes’ hands if it came to it, but the possibility didn’t give him even a moment’s hesitation.

It wasn’t long before another Alliance soldier appeared, escorting a slender, veiled figure, draped in inara’s colorful silk robes. Clint tensed, rolling the key to his cuffs across his palm. _Here we go._ Barnes traded places with the guard that had brought “Inara” to the hangar, but with the majority of his attention still on Mal, he didn’t stop long enough to confirm who was standing next to him. “Bring Barton down the ramp!” he called.

“Showtime,” Mal muttered, taking Clint’s elbow. “You ready?”

Hoping that the noise he made by way of reply didn’t sound as much like a whimper as he thought, Clint let himself be led down the ramp. His heart sped up as the distance closed between him and Barnes. He’d never been assigned to work with the top operative in the program, but he knew snipers who had – and not a single one of them had a warm thought for the man.

He was _smiling_ as Clint and Mal reached the bottom of the ramp. “It will be good to close the chapter on you two,” he said, catching Clint’s eye.

Before Clint could think of anything suitable to say, Mal made an exasperated noise. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll have the entire journey back to the Core to threaten him. Time to dance.”

Clint had been the one to suggest the phrase, and as soon as the words left Mal’s lips, the world around them exploded. River ripped off the veil she had been wearing and swung it into Barnes’ face. The distraction was followed by a sharp elbow that seemed to strike his throat, and a reverse swing kick into the area of his middle.

While that was unfolding, Clint undid his cuffs and reached for the gun Mal had stuck in his belt at the small of his back. As soon as he’d pulled it free, he broke left and Mal broke right.

By the time Clint got his eyes on Natasha again, she had dropped to the ground, and was maneuvering her bound wrists from behind her to the front. His eyes widened in horror as he realized that a noose was being pulled tight around her throat as she worked – the tensile strength of the line forcing her to contort her body into an unnatural position to achieve her goal.

A blur of motion at his right was the only warning Clint had that his distraction had cost him precious time and space. He tried to get his weapon up in time to get a shot off, but Barnes tackled him, forcing him down to the deck. His left arm was twisted up behind his back, almost to the point of breaking – Barnes used the leverage to almost effortlessly force him flat onto his stomach.

“Your hand or your arm,” the operative growled, leaning his full weight onto Clint’s back. “Move the wrong way and I’ll take one of them.”

Clint forced himself to relax, even though his entire body was vibrating with the need to get to his wife. Natasha had successfully brought her bound hands forward; she had hold of the rope around her neck now, but it was all taking too long – much longer than it should have. Clint’s pulse was suddenly beating so loudly in his ears that it drowned out nearly everything else. _C’mon Tasha,_ he pleaded silently, pulling reflexively against Barnes’ hold until the operative tightened his own grip again in warning. _You can do this!_

“She’s losing feeling in her extremities,” Barnes said, no hint in his own voice that they were watching someone they both cared about die right in front of them. “It was a good gamble, but she’ll never be able to manage the rope in time.”

“Save her.” The words slipped away from him, more sob than speech, but Natasha’s oxygen-starved body was starting to spasm and Clint knew he couldn’t do it – he couldn’t sit back and let her die, not if Barnes was giving him the power to grant her even one more hour of life. He was dimly aware of people screaming around him, but none of it penetrated. None of it mattered. Not anymore.

 _Until…_ Barefoot and at a dead run, River suddenly appeared in his field of view. Somehow she’d managed to divest herself of most of the heavy silks and jewels she’d been wearing, and it was like watching sunlight moving across the water. He felt Barnes’ soft exhalation of breath on his neck, all the Operative would allow himself in the way of surprise, before his captor forced him face down on the floor. “Don’t move,” he growled softly.

Despite the fact that he took Barnes very seriously as a threat, Clint manage to twist his head enough to see what was going on. River had produced a knife from somewhere and worked it under the rope around Natasha’s neck. Trying to forget about all the times River had circled her, offering challenge after challenge, Clint held his breath until she managed to successfully slice through the rope stealing Tash’s life.

His wife’s first full breath as she collapsed forward on her hands and knees was a ragged scream in the chaos, bringing tears to Clint’s eyes. “Thank you…thank you…thank you…” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the floor. Whatever happened now, he could handle it.

Especially if what happened now was Natasha and River teaming up to kill James Barnes.

Of course, his luck wasn’t that good. Not anymore – he’d been living on borrowed time since the day Natasha had agreed to run. He knew that now. His captor curled in close, his breath hot against Clint’s ear. There was still one part to Barnes’ mission that could be salvaged, and that was Clint. “Stay very still and very quiet, and you might have a chance.” Barnes kissed his cheek, and then cold fire slid into Clint’s body between his bottom two ribs. 

It took Clint’s brain a handful of seconds to register he’d been stabbed; all he felt was a thick, nauseating pressure pushing into his chest. Another smaller handful of seconds slipped through his awareness as he realized Barnes had wounded him in such a way that if he moved too much or the blade was withdrawn prematurely his chances of survival were almost nil.

The weight at his back was suddenly gone as the operative released him and pushed to his feet. Trying not to panic, Clint groped for the knife with a shaking hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt – holding it in place as best he could.

 _Help me…_  
*****************************  
“Clint…” The world was gray and smeared around her, but Natasha couldn’t lose the image of her husband in Barnes’ grip. “Help him…” She reached out to grab for River, get the girl’s attention, but missed. The arm supporting her buckled and collapsed. Natasha went down hard, crying out again. Nothing was working. She could barely string two coherent thoughts together – all she knew was that Clint was still in danger.

“Breathe.” Cool hands cupped her skull. _River._ “Your brain needs to breathe. Needs gas. Nothing runs without fuel.”

The physical contact steadied Natasha, as did the simple practicality of River’s words. _In…out…_ Slow and controlled. Her body was still panicking, screaming for as much oxygen as she could take in, as fast as she could swallow it, but Natasha knew that if she gave in to instinct now she would lose consciousness.

“Clint,” she breathed, trying again to convey her worries to River, but the girl’s hands tightened in clear warning. Awareness that River could snap her neck and probably not even mean to, forced Natasha quiet again. _In…out…in…out…_ Around them chaos still raged, but Natasha obediently narrowed her focus again, until only her breathing mattered.

“Simon will help your bird,” River said abruptly, as Natasha’s vision finally began to clear. “Serenity needs you to help yourself.”

 _Serenity_ River had always called the baby that – and truth was, Natasha had named her for the ship that had given her tiny family sanctuary when they needed it the most – but now she realized that in her strange way River was employing a double meaning with the word. “Family is bigger than blood or sex,” River said, following Natasha’s thoughts. “Breathe.”

Feeling more herself with each breath, Natasha shifted under the girl’s hands. “Help me sit,” she said. The angle she was at was grinding her knees painfully into the floor of the hangar, and as much as she wanted to be able to trust River, the warrior in her needed to assess what was going on around them.

Clint hadn’t moved from where Barnes had put him down – a scant twenty yards away from her position. As promised, Simon was crouched over him, but the look on the doctor’s face sent a painful jolt of adrenaline through Natasha’s body. She was halfway to her feet when River hauled her back down again. The impact as she hit the deck sent her adrenal load spiraling into a reckless anger. _You want to dance?_ she thought, not caring in that moment that River probably could read her mind. _I’ll dance with you, Tā mā de guài tāi._

River crouched down, until the two of them were at eye level. “Now is not the time for dancing,” she said, the chiding tone of her voice at odds with the grim expression on her face.

Before she could find the words to respond, Natasha caught a flurry of movement over River’s shoulder. Without turning or otherwise giving any visible reaction, the girl swung her elbow sharply – connecting perfectly with the nose of the guard that had been seeking to attack her from behind. “Captain wants us on board the shuttle,” she said, still maintaining perfect eye contact with Natasha.

It was the most perfect example Tash had ever seen of the Alliance’s programming at work, and while her heart was still with her husband and his unknown fate, all she could do in the end was nod weakly and let River help her to her feet.  
***********************************************************  
The noises of battle were growing distant around him as Clint hovered on the edge of unconsciousness. Simon’s quick, steady hands were still checking him for injuries other than Barnes’ knife in his chest, but since he already knew there were none to find, staying actively involved in the process was mattering less and less as the minutes ticked by.

“We’ve got to go.” Mal’s voice, suddenly close, was enough to bring Clint’s eyes open again. The Captain was crouched in front of him, looking past him at Simon. “How bad is it?”

Clint had always found Serenity’s doctor high strung under the best of circumstances, but he couldn’t fault the strain in Simon’s voice as he admitted, “He shouldn’t be moved. Right now that knife is the only thing standing between him and a very quick, very messy death.”

“Right now that shuttle is the only thing standing between all of us and finishing out our lives in an Alliance prison, Doctor,” Mal snapped. “Give me options.”

“I can try and wrap the hilt,” Simon offered. “Bind it in place…minimize the movement as we carry him.”

Clint was only dimly aware of reaching for Mal. “Do it.” He struggled to focus on Serenity’s captain, who was looking at him now with a disturbingly worried expression. “Bring me home, Captain. I’m not…” He coughed, crying out as the blade shifted slightly and the small seepage of blood from his wound began to spread a little faster.

When the pain cleared enough for him to speak again, Mal was gripping his arm. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Tash okay?” Clint managed by way of reply. He was reassured by the understanding in Reynolds’ eyes as he nodded. “Bring me home, Captain,” Clint said again. “I’m not dying here.”

They couldn’t keep from hurting him entirely, but Clint was grateful at the care they took stabilizing him and carrying him to the shuttle. He was beginning to feel a mounting pressure in his chest as blood slowly filled the cavity and tried not to panic at the thought of suffocating to death just as surely as Natasha almost had.

Thoughts of his wife seemed to bring her to his side as Mal and Simon carried him into the shuttle. Clint heard her querying the doctor on his condition and was almost able to make sense of Simon’s answers, but on the whole he was relieved when the shuttle rumbled to life around them. “I’m going to give you something to relax your heart rate,” he heard Simon say as Wash lifted off – heading for Serenity and home. “We need to see about slowing your blood loss until I can get a look at how far in that knife is.”

“Do it,” Clint heard Natasha say, her voice rough but still beautiful to him. “Whatever it takes – we trust you.”

Something inside Clint seemed to let go then. Tasha had his back. She would see him through.

Whatever Simon gave him made things easier. Clint felt himself starting to drift again when he heard Natasha say, “You almost cost our daughter a father, Nǐ gè shǎ mào.” Opening his eyes at the accusation, he saw that she had taken the seat beside him. Clint’s now hopelessly jumbled senses registered the press of her hand in his.

“Better than costing her a mother,” he retorted, shifting as much as he dared so he could see her properly. “What were you thinking?” There was an angry red welt cutting across her throat that would be a spectacular bruise in a couple of days. Without thinking, he reached for it. After a moment, she leaned in close enough for him to brush his fingertips across the ridges the carbon-fiber line had molded into her skin.

His accusation had about as much heat as hers had, and she reacted to it with as little energy. “That I wasn’t going to let them have you,” she told him finally. “No matter what.”

“We need to figure this out,” he told her, letting his hand drop. “Soon as we’re both better. I never want to have to watch you suffer like that again.” His vision blurred, and he blinked away the threat of tears. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

She seemed more fragile to him in that moment than Clint could ever remember seeing her, but her jaw was set and her eyes blazed with determination as she told him, “No chance. I swear to you here and now, Clint Barton. As long as you can make an opening for me, I will always come home to you.”


End file.
